Oh Sweet Nothin'
by Sumhope
Summary: A Magua POV fic that goes between past and present tense to explore how Magua became the bitter revenge filled man we see in the film/book. "He coughs and gags and the white man watches and laughs. He is but a beast in a cage." Alice/Uncas Pairing.


_Disclaimer: the characters belong to James Fenimore Cooper, the lyrics to 'The Velvet Underground'. I make no profit from this story. _

_Warning: Major Angst. _

_Summary:__ The strangest thing happened this weekend. Went and saw Zombieland (it was epic) and oddly enough I was inspired to write a Magua fic based on a song that played for maybe 15 seconds in the movie. __The song is by 'The Velvet Underground' (Oh! Sweet Nuthin'). I never thought I would ever do I song fic, truthfully I think their kinda tacky and rarely work well, however I kept playing this song over and over as I wrote and it merged into a song fic despite myself. So please bear with it. I suggest you youtube the song and listen to it as you read this fic. http:/ __.com__ /watch?v= BitnKWJftXw_

_This fic is entirely Magua POV and goes between past and present tense so it might be a little confusing at the beginning. Italics are song lyrics._

* * *

**Oh Sweet Nothin'**

* * *

The revenge centers him, it holds him steady. There is nothing but the revenge. It gives him purpose and a reason to keep breathing. It is his heartbeat. It keeps his tomahawk silent even when the Monroe children are close enough to touch. The revenge helps him focus on the bigger picture and the goal waiting at the fort. So he leads the sisters and their party as a scout. He holds his tongue and waits for the opportune moment to strike. The moment comes and he feels blade meet bone. He can see their pale wide eyes trembling beneath his knife and the revenge is so sweet it makes his teeth ache. Before he can strike they are snatched away by two Mohicans and their white son. He is left empty handed with nothing but the revenge. But as always revenge centers him, it holds him steady. There is nothing but the revenge.

_Say a word for Jimmy Brown _

_He ain't got nothing at all_

_Not a shirt right off his back _

_He ain't got nothing at all_

* * *

He had never been the best at something. In his village he was never the strongest or the fastest, the fiercest warrior or the best hunter. He was just Magua. When he married he thought he might be the best at loving because she was the most beautiful, kind person and he didn't want anything more or less than her. When her belly grew large and round he didn't know if he had enough love to give his child, he had given it all to her. But when his son was born his heart seemed to double and he had so much love that he though he might be the best at this, at loving his family.

The white man came and destroyed his village and annihilated his people. He tried his best to defend his family but he had never been the best at warfare and his best was not enough. His best couldn't save them.

When his son falls to the ground everything halts. The thud of his sons face against the ground replaces everything inside him. All he can see is the broken angle of the child's neck and the stillness of him. It is in that moment he forgets his fathers name and his mothers face. He forgets the way a smile feels on his face and how his heart used to leap at the sound of his sons voice. He forgets everything because there is only room for the grief. As they tie his hands he sees the Greyhair atop his horse and his grief is replaced with something black and cold and furious. The grief burns to liquid hate and anger and finally is hardened to revenge. He takes hold of the revenge and knows that finally he will be the best at something.

_And say a word for Ginger Brown _

_Walks with his head down to the ground _

_They took the shoes right off his feet _

_And threw the poor boy right out in the street_

* * *

He waits outside the fort. The revenge gives him patience. The revenge gives him purpose. His warriors strike as the afternoon sun begins to fall and the English reach the trees. Monroe falls just as easily underneath the edge of his blade as the rest. His people have a saying; cut off the genitals of your enemy and their sons cannot hunt you in the afterlife. The Greyhair's children are girls, weak females. He takes the heart instead. He squeezes the beat away and the blood on his hands feels like a cleansing. Still it does not satisfy as he thought it would, the knot of anger still sits heavy in his chest. He needs the hearts of the Monroe children to replace it.

He finds them under the water deep in the earth. It smells of wet stone and finality. The Mohican protectors are nowhere to be found and his blade whines in disappointment. The elder sister glares at him defiantly and hatefully. He feels a rush of exhilaration fill him. He will enjoy breaking her. The other is pale and lost to the world, already broken. His eyes turn back to the dark haired sister.

The village elder burns the officer and releases the daughter with the fiery spirit. He is left with the weak sister. The elder tells him to let this daughter of Monroe warm his bed and soften his heart. But his heart lies broken, held in the empty eyes of his child massacred.

_And this is what he said_

_Oh sweet nuthin' _

_She ain't got nothing at all _

_Oh sweet nutin' _

_She ain't got nothing at all_

* * *

The last of his people are tied together and brought to the fort. Everything is dirty and noisy and loud. They separate the women from men. Where his heart used to be there is a gaping aching hollow place. The white men leave them bread and amber liquid that taste of piss. It makes his pulse speed and heat gathers in his neck. It numbs the pain of his shattered soul. He drinks deeply until the faces in his head blur. But he is not the best at the drink. It rises in his throat to spew out his mouth. He coughs and gags and the white man watches and laughs. He is but a beast in a cage.

Then his wife is auctioned off, like a piece of meat or a string of beads. He watches as the white men gather round and touching and grouping her. His veins fill with liquid fire. He watches as a hairy faced trapper takes her bound hands and pulls her on his horse. He watches as they fade into the horizon. He watches long after her braid disappears. He watches long after the trappers dirty greasy pale head fades from view. He watches and puts the drink down and vows to add the pale scalp to his belt.

_Say a word for Polly May _

_She can't tell the night from the day _

_They threw her out in the street _

_But just like a cat she landed on her feet_

* * *

He finds them across the river beneath the meeting of two mountains. The cabin is small and drafty nothing like the snug wigwam he had built for his bride. He guts the trapper outside with two swings and another to slice away skin and hair. Tying the scalp to his belt he enters the cabin and sees her. She holds a child in her arms and for a moment he feels as if he is waking from a dream and his child and her were never taken from him. But then he sees the tuffs of white blond hair atop the child's head and his ears are filled with noise and his vision goes dark around the edges and before he knows it he has crossed the room and pulled her to her feet.

He says her name in a voice that sound nothing like him. The child starts to cry. She looks at him with disbelief and then at his bloody hands that grip her clothes and the scalp that swings from his waist. Her eyes turn hateful and she jerks out of his grasp. Her eyes wound him. He feels his sanity crack in that moment. She looks at him the way he looks at the white man and he wants to shout at her and scream at her that he did everything, he did it all for her, for them.

He looks at the child held in her arms, the child that lays between them. He raises his bleeding tomahawk. She spits in his face, her hands trembling round the infant. It is then that he knows; this is not his beloved wife. His bride is dead. He turns and leaves them. The cries of the child follow, clinging to his ears.

_And say a word for Joanna Love_

_She ain't got nothing at all_

_'Cos everyday she falls in love_

_And everynight she falls when she does_

* * *

The Mohican attacks where cliff meets cloud. Young and brave and so very alive, it is like seeing a shadow of his former self. But he has worked too long at being the best at revenge that there is nothing else. So his blade cuts and cuts and cuts away until he is holding the boy with knife at throat on the edge. The boy only has eyes for the girl. The boy looks at her the way his bride once looked at him and his hand relaxes on the blade. But then he remembers the cabin by the river and sees the child with yellow hair. His hand tightens and turns and there is a rush of warmth on his fingers and then the boy is falling over and down. He watches until the sliding, falling, plummeting is still, then he turns.

She has moved to the edge. Her eyes are blank and dull but somehow alive and screaming. What he sees in her eyes sends a dart of understanding through his brittle heart. Here is someone who knows the feeling of loss and grief, of helplessness. He wants to feel rage and vengeful justice but it has bled out of him leaving an empty hollow inside. All he can think of is early morning mist and late nights of whispered promises. Of holding his wife and the smell of her skin and touching soft long braids. He remember his son and laughing brown eyes, a missing front tooth and a smile like his mothers. He can feel the brittle rough edges of him softening like frost under morning sunrise.

He reaches out and offers her his hand. He wants to hold her back from the edge. He wants to hold her so he can melt a little more in the warmth. He wants to hold something. But she turns away and joins the boy before her and he is left with nothing.

_Oh, sweet nothin, _he_ ain't got nothin' at all._

_She said_

_Oh sweet nuthin'_

_You know she ain't got nothing at all_

_Oh sweet nuthin'_

_She ain't got nothing at all_

* * *

I don't know if by the ending Magau was redeemed in your eyes. I'm not sure that I was aiming for that actually. I just wanted to give some more background and motive for a character that is portrayed as only the 'bad guy'.

For those of you that read my Uncas POV fic 'What is Said in the Silence' thank you for all of your kind reviews. As I promised there will be a Alice POV companion fic. I am making progress on it and hopefully will be up soon.

Make sure you leave me a review and let me know what you thought about this. Did you hate it or love it? Do you feel a teensy bit sorry for Magua now or will he forever be on your naughty list?


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